Both Sides of Now
by Darkestforever
Summary: *Requested Story *  Every shadow must give way to the light of day.  When a world is shattered, it can heal to bring about true happiness.  A brief short glimpse into the future of Misaki and Usami from the 'In This Life' universe.


**Title: Both Sides of Now**

**By DarkestForever**

Rating: T (at most)

**Genre:** romance/drama/ character death/yaoi

**Summary:** Death has many affects. The Good. The Ugly. Sometimes, it teaches life is about seizing the moment and living. (Usagi x Misaki)

**Disclaimer:** All characters and rights of the Junjou Romantica world belong to Shungiku Nakamura and her publishers Blu. This fanfiction is written with no intention of earning any royalties or money. It is for the sole purpose of free enjoyment for the Junjou Romantica fangirls and boys like myself who are killing time until manga volumes 11 and 12, or another series of the Anime appears on our screens.

Other works based on events of this story are in the work so please look out for _**Junjou Terrorist/Egoist – In This Life & Somewhere in the Middle. **_

**Both Sides Of Now**

There are only two ways to live your life.

One is as though nothing is a miracle.

The other is as though everything is a miracle.

~ Albert Einstein ~

A chintzy crackle from the fire disturbed him.

The author's chair chirred as it swung.

Swiveling, he turned to face the fire. Violet eyes watched the flicker frolic of the embers in the hearth. The flames continued their scintillating spry dance. Assessing the height of the blaze, he estimated it would be another hour or two before the ravenous pyre would require sustenance. Closing his eyes, he listened to the chorus of crackles, crinkles and snaps. The earth smell of pinecones and earthy scent of damn wood tickled his nose.

A slumbering figure lay bathed in the aurous guild of the firelight. He smiled at the serenity of the moment. His mulberry orbs caressed the dosing brunet figure. Lovingly, he memorized the vision of his captivating companion curled up on the sofa. Nestled among thick fleecy blankets, the young editor slept peacefully, cushioned from the storm spluttering its ferocity outside the window. The gusting gale howled and blustered beyond the glass. Rain drummed persistently against the pane, trying to escape the gelid air of the nebulous night.

Poised to resume his typing, the author pensively paused.

The crashing crescendo of the storm's torrents stirred his heart.

The rain powerfully stirred a ripple of memories.

Turning back to his laptop, he read the first paragraph of his new book.

_Death invokes sullen sundry of emotions._

_In a fleeting meteoric, humanity can be reminded about how tenuous life is. Ignorantly, humans proceed to take for granted how delicate our hold on life is. From birth, we live to die. In our youth, our bodies seem zealously adamantine. We are obtuse to the reality that our bodies' design is a vitreous fashion of soft, supple flesh. A human is a diaphanous collection __discombobulated parts that would easily disintegrate, if not for the guard of a husky level of skin._

It was an elegiac start.

Was this really the best solution to his grief?

Haphazardly, he discarded his glasses on the desk. His fingers strayed to the pound ache pinching at the bridge of his nose. He exhaled a deep sigh. Mauve eyes settled on the collection of images on his desk. An abstract collection of colour picture frames sat before him. His lover beamed buoyantly from array of geographies. These images where to remind him of the importance of relishing life.

Two young boys stood sternly address in their elementary uniform. A painful half smile twisted his lips. Unshed tear burnt those deep lavender orbs. This picture weighed the heaviest on his heart.

The day, Usami Akihiko, learnt of his best friend's death shocked the great author. He answered the phone in an exultant mood expecting another voice to greet him. When the female voice sobbed his name, time staggered to a shocking stop. The cigarette fell from his lip, singeing the rug beneath his feet. Waves of an unknown, terrifying emotion overwhelmed and paralyzed him.

Shakily, he responded. "H-ow?"

He could barely recall the rest of the conversation with Kamijou's mother.

Sitting alone, tears of outrage fell from his mauve eyes. Irrational anger broiled in his heart. The world was hermetic. His mind raced with vehement, futile thought. The situation was irremediable. This death was an unwarranted waste of a good man's life. He possessed no power to undo this fallacious glitch. He was supinely small against the sthenic sovereignty of death.

Inspiration sparked in this thought.

He began to type again.

_How indolently insignificant we are in the face of infinity._

Humans possessed a brash audacity, he thought to himself as he continued to allow his fingers to fly over the keyboard. We abuse each other terribly. His eyes drifted back to that childhood photograph. Usami had long suspected that Hiroki held unrequited feelings for him. He was not impervious to the fleetingly shy glances and the emulous glares bestowed towards Takahiro in high school. His stubborn tsundere friend withstood years of neglect and exploitation. Compunctious guilt weighed on his consciousness. Beside the grave, Usami observed in solemn reproach that he had heinously abused their friendship. He had polluted Hiroki from a young age. Desecrating his friend who served him in adulation and pureness in one tawdry night.

His fingers hesitated.

Why were those thoughts stirring?

This was not their story.

_Somber overcast clouds welcomed the mourning party to the gravesite. Donned in their aphotic attire, the collective of repining remorseful beings ringed the open plot. Alone, he stood. Bifurcated from his loved one by the scurrilous satire of society's standards. Shackled to their stricture, he was only sanctioned to survey the ceremony. His existence was a scatological slur on their son's exalted esteem._

His mind replayed poignant vision of the atrabilious man at the heart of this scene: Kusama. Cobalt eyes stared out of a ghastly complexion. Aloof, he ignored the cruel conversations that convoluted around him. Kusama: the pit-bull guard dog of Hiroki. Ostracized and denied for he dared to love the young master of the great Kamijou family. He had been forced to stand in the shoes of Kusama. Kusama was erroneously depraved the right to stand watch over his lover's. Hiroki's mother had leaned on Usami for support, pressing him into taking up the duty. He offered the eulogy injunction with Professor Miyagi of Mitsuhashi -University.

A warm empathetic hand grasped his shoulder. Tilting his head back, Usami smiled dotingly up at his green-eyed lover.

"You're cold." The young editor stated, draping a fleece around the author. "How's the plot coming?"

"Slowly."

Reassuring fingers attentively flexed over the knots in his shoulders. He groaned as talented fingers eased a tenaciously taut muscle. Through hooded lids, he watched his lover knead and stroke the nagging sinew of his shoulders. Raising an arm, he latched his fingers in the mop of brown hair to claim a libidinous kiss from his tormentor.

"Hmm…" His lover abstemiously moaned breaking the kiss. "That was naughty Usagi-san. I said no kisses until you had finished this chapter."

"I needed the inspiration."

In a frugal attempt to moderate the moment, the young green-eyed editor stepped back from their edacious smooching. A gleam in those emerald depths, told the author that his companion was longingly to devour him. Sharing in the wicked voracious delights of their love.

"Stop teasing!" The editor squawked flushing fuchsia as groping fingers strayed. "You know the rules… No hanky-panky until you finished this chapter!"

Usami groaned disgruntled at the hindrance of his lover's puritanical discipline. "You're a tyrant!" The author cantankerously snorted.

Misaki chuckled. "I think you need some coffee."

"Sounds good."

Usami pivoted his chair to watch his petite lover descend into the kitchen. The unorthodox staircase groused with dismay as it bore Misaki's weight. Their little cottage possessed plenty of serendipitous character from the odd moans and groans to the eccentric construction of the building. The landlord dubbed the extemporaneous design as a higgly-piggly mishmash. For two years, this capricious cottage had been home. With its rambling corridors and desultorily low ceilings, the nineteenth century miller's cottage possessed it's share of fortuitous blessings and literal injurious headaches. On the banks of a little stream, their cottage stood filled with warmth, love and contentment. As the delicious aroma of fresh filtered coffee stirred through the house, Usami leant back into his leather chair with an overwhelming sense of completion.

Life had chosen to be considerately charitable to him.

Glancing at the shelf of images, mulberry orbs settled on one prancing collection of contained in a digital frame. The day, Misaki had gracious exchanged his vows binding them in a civil union had completed his life. The young editor had toiled with the tribulations of the true nature of their relationships for years. Seeing the esoteric malaise of losing a loved one and the infelicitous desolation that came with that level of grief had shaken both to them to the core. Nine months after Kamijou's death, Misaki bluntly implicated one evening that it was time to invite his brother for dinner.

Closing his eyes, Usami could recall that laugh of delight that escaped his lips as he swept Misaki onto the dance floor for their first dance. The fizzle of that moment was etched onto his soul. The stars had lustfully glimmered in the sky, brightly blessing their magical moment. In wonder, he had gazed at the brilliant sky that night. He imagined that was Hiroki's reproach to cherish and treasure life.

His fingers returned to the keys determined to pay homage to that love.

Critics would herald the heart-breaking narrative as the champion of tragedies. Stupendous acclaim was awarded to the novel that performed the incredible titanic feat were love conquered death. For generations, Usami's legacy for Kamijou reduced reader and film audiences to tears as he instructed them on the true meaning of Junjou Romantica.


End file.
